#and the things you stumble across BY FUCKING ACCIDENT lmfao

[burningtacozombie]

Script review for “Hotel Cocaine” Pilot

It’s 1978 in Miami. Cocaine is becoming THE drug, to the point where people are building tiny submarines, basically coffins, that allow them to smuggle coke into Miami from South America.

We watch as one of these coffins pops up off the Miami coast and the two riders get out and wait for the boat that’s going to pick them up. Instead, a group of Haitian pirates show up and machine gun a bunch of holes into the smugglers.

Cut to The Mutiny Hotel, the Casablanca of Miami, where we hear our hotel manager, Cuban ex-pat, Roman Compte, explain the scene: “The year was 1978 and the cocaine wars of Miami stop at our entrance. We were Switzerland, neutral territory, where drug dealers sent drinks over to DEA agents and avoided killing each other because everyone was having too much fun.”

After dealing with a Hunter S. Thompson incident (yes, the author), Roman gets cornered by two DEA agents who explain that the aforementioned submarine massacre included one of their men working undercover. They want Roman to reconnect with his estranged brother, Nestor, who’s essentially this story’s version of Scarface. Nestor is the one who owned the sub.

The last person Roman wants to deal with is his bloodthirsty crazy brother. But after the DEA threatens to send him back to Cuba, where he’ll be shot dead for betraying Castro, he doesn’t have a choice.

Nestor is not happy to see his sibling but Nestor also realizes the advantages of having an inside man at the most desirable hotel in town. Once Roman is in with Nestor, the DEA wants him to tell them when and where Nestor is going to deal with the Haitians who killed his submarine crew. They want to get there first and arrest Nestor. But when Nestor sniffs out his brother’s betrayal, he changes the meet-up location, and everything falls apart for both the DEA and Roman.

This was a really good pilot.

X

It gave me some Taylor Sheridan vibes. Paramount’s probably pissed they didn’t snatch this up.

When it comes to TV shows, you’re trying to find scenarios that create a never-ending series of problems that need to be solved by your protagonist. This is why cop shows are so reliable. A cop always has another problem to solve. As soon as one murder is over, another one happens in the next neighborhood.

Same thing here. The series takes place in a hotel. Even at a normal hotel, you’ve got a new problem every 30 minutes. But imagine if you took a normal hotel and turned it into one of the most high profile hotels in the world where criminals, cops, DEA, celebrities, FBI, all hung out.

Now, you’re going to have a new problem every minute. And these problems are going to be much higher grade than the ones at your average hotel. For example, you’ll have your fair share of dead bodies in rooms. That’s why this is such a good idea for a show. Roman is always going to have a problem to solve.

What’s great about Hotel Cocaine is that the writer, Chris Brancato, didn’t stop there. He turbocharged his idea by placing Roman in a very precarious position. Roman is being controlled both by the DEA, who want an inside man into Nestor’s operation, and Nestor, who wants an inside man into the DEA’s operation. This forces Roman to walk the thinnest tightrope in Miami.

This is how you write, guys. It’s not hard when you think about it.

a. Come up with a concept that generates problems. b. Place the story somewhere where those problems feel big, so the stakes are high. c. Make things as difficult as possible on your protagonist.

That simple formula is what makes this pilot work.

I do have a beef, though. There’s a big scene late in the pilot where Nestor needs to know if he can trust Roman. So he calls him over then takes him into some back room. Sitting in the back room is a guy who’s tied up. Nestor says this guy deceived him. And Nestor will work with Roman if Roman kills him right here and now. He gives Roman the gun and Roman is tasked with a difficult decision. Kill or don’t kill?

My beef? I’ve seen this scene a million times before.

Don’t get me wrong. It’s a compelling scenario. And it usually works. But if you’re not going to do anything new with it, don’t write it. Cause once you give the audience something they’ve seen a ton of times before, you lose a little piece of them. Cause they’re like, ‘Oh, I’ve been to this house before. I’ve seen this room.’ You’ve lost a little bit of that magical storytelling hold you have on the reader (or viewer). And if you do that a few more times in your script, you lose the reader altogether.

I’ll tell you how to fix that scene in the What I Learned section. But that was the only real blip on the radar here. I suspect this is going to be a really good show. Assuming, of course, that Roman can solve the hotel’s biggest problem of all – how to relocate to a streamer that viewers have access to.

What I learned: All right, so let’s say you want to write a “Shoot this guy so I can trust you” scene. You’ve heard the Scriptshadow criticism ringing in your ear imploring you to find a unique way into the scene. Yet, no matter how hard you try, you can’t come up with a fresh angle. Here’s what you do, instead: Make the person he has to kill someone we’ve set up earlier in the script as a character he has a connection with. That way, your protagonist isn’t just shooting anyone. It’s personal. They know, and are maybe even close, to this person. That scenario works 99.9% of the time, even though we’ve seen it before. There’s something about seeing our protagonist tasked with killing someone they know that’s riveting and overrides any ‘cliche’ criticisms.

[retrievablememories]

a strange love | yuta (m)

title: a strange love pairing: alien!yuta x black!reader genre: sci-fi/fantasy, fluff, angst, smut request: “I read a good chunk of your NCT work and really liked them. Would I be able to request a fic where a black female reader meets an alien (can be Yuta or Jungwoo) and they're both coming to terms that they're attracted to each other and have to come to terms with being attracted to someone of a different species? Can be smutty and don't be afraid to give the alien a less human biology if you don't mind.” word count: 13.1k warnings: alcohol use, cursing, near drowning experience, lots of mentions of water so this one might not mesh well with people w/ aquaphobia, non-human biology/body horror, extraterrestrial sex, lots of cum, oral sex (female receiving), tentacle dick, unprotected sex, creampie, please heed the warnings because this is an alien smutfic lmao a/n: giving the shape of water teas. i’ve actually never seen that movie 😕 but i will at some point. forgive me in advance for the nerdy references in here.

It’s funny how things happen when you least expect it. You never would’ve thought you’d be sound asleep when your entire world changed.

The night the UFO crashes in your city, you’re awoken by the tremors of its landing. The vibrations feel akin to an earthquake, and they make picture frames and other trinkets fall off your shelves and hit the floor in a clatter of noise. You jump up from your pillow at the racket, your heart pounding. You glance at the things lying on your floor and quickly register that the room—your entire home—is trembling.

There’s not much you can do at this point but ride it out, so you huddle down in your covers and hope the roof doesn’t cave in on your head. To your knowledge, your particular area isn’t known for earthquakes, which makes all of this even stranger. What could be causing one now? Is the world finally ending?

Eventually, the tremors stop. By now, your shelves have been emptied of nearly all their contents, but you’re still alive, which you’re grateful for. You wait a few more minutes to see if the shakes will begin again, but they don’t, so you climb out from the warmth of your covers to clean up your floor.

Police and ambulance sirens start blaring through the city not long after you get out of bed. That’s nothing unusual; there are usually injuries and casualties with natural disasters like these, and you expect many poor souls will be needing rescue tonight. You sigh and look at your closed blinds, watching them be sporadically illuminated by the lights of the emergency vehicles rushing past.

Once you’ve cleaned up your room and gotten back in bed, you think about checking social media for what people have been saying about the quake. There’s no doubt that the city’s residents have taken to Twitter and Instagram to document it. However, your eyelids are already starting to droop, and you’d probably fall asleep in the middle of scrolling, so you decide to tuck in and wait until morning.

Waking up the next day almost seems like a normal Sunday until you look at your blinds again and are suddenly reminded of last night’s flashing lights. Right. The earthquake. Throwing the covers back, you stumble out of bed to turn on your TV. You flip through the channels until you find a news station for your local area. You go to open the blinds, keeping your ears open for reports on the earthquake.

“Last night, we experienced unprecedented seismic activity throughout the majority of the city, caused by what appears to be an unidentified flying object, otherwise known as a UFO—”

Huh?

You turn to the TV, thinking this must be some kind of ridiculous hoax. You get ready to reach for the remote, thinking you must have turned it to one of those parody news channels by accident, but you freeze at what you see. Video footage of the city center—or what used to be the city center—plays on the screen. In place of the large historical monument that used to stand there, there’s a huge...silver and black spaceship. Or at least you think it’s a ship. It apparently sustained major damage in the landing, and now it looks more like a hunk of melted metal. The area around it has been blasted clear in every direction. Instead of green grass and pavement, there’s nothing but dirt.

The area is blocked off with yellow tape, though hundreds of people have gathered at the location to check out the object and take pictures and videos of it.

“What the fuck…” you whisper to yourself.

“We’re currently unsure where this UFO originated from, though we can confirm that it is not affiliated with any aircraft fleets owned by the U.S. military. Researchers and scientists from top universities across the country are being called in to assist in identifying this craft…”

“There’s no just way,” you mutter, grabbing your shower cap and pulling clothes out of your closet for your morning shower. “A UFO...guess that alien invasion is coming sooner than we thought.” You would like to believe it’s all just someone playing a terrible prank, but pulling off this level of theatrics is impossible.

After you get out of the shower and start making breakfast for yourself, you get a text from one of your coworkers, Alex.

10:30 A.M. Alex🍸 You seeing this shit on the news right now?

10:31 A.M. Obviously! It’s fucking wild. Do you really think it’s true? OR some elaborate government hoax? Anything’s possible. I’m betting “true,” but...

10:33 A.M. Alex🍸 I honestly don’t know. that’s why me and some of the others from work are about to head over there now. Wanna come?

10:34 A.M. The hell! I’ll pass. There could be all types of radiation n shit, I’m not tryna turn into the Green Lantern or the Hulk or somebody.

10:35 A.M. Alex🍸 lmFAO. Suit ypurself. If I gain superpowers don’t be surprised if I fly over to your house today.

10:35 A.M. You’re a mess. 💀

You spend breakfast watching more news reports and scrolling through Twitter feeds for firsthand information. People who visited the site, including your coworkers, have uploaded pictures of the UFO from various angles, inciting a frenzy of conspiracy theories and warnings that the world is about to end.

You don’t know what to make of the situation, but it stays on your mind throughout the day as you leave the house and go about completing your usual errands. The city center has been blocked off to all vehicles other than those belonging to people who’ve been called in to help, which means that traffic is sky-high everywhere else—even for a Sunday.

Sitting in a mishmash of cars, you roll down your window and sigh, looking out at the red traffic lights, and beyond that to the horizon. Things are about to get very weird for the next few weeks. Maybe months. You can only hope you’re prepared for it.

You don’t know why, but the air seems strange tonight.

It’s been 2 days since the UFO crashed. There haven’t been many more answers apart from what everyone already knows due to the ship’s destroyed state. The city has professionals out for that sort of thing, but they’re taking their sweet time analyzing the ship—though you can’t really blame them. Jumping straight into unknown alien tech seems like a death wish.

Your life has been pretty much the same as usual, though you know a few people at work who have been more directly affected by the events. One girl, Sooyoung, who lives in the neighborhood near the crash site claims the officials are thinking about having that entire area evacuate, though you don’t know why they’re beating around the bush about it if it’s true. Whatever radiation or chemicals they’re worried about has probably already leached into all the surrounding homes, and now you’re just waiting for someone to walk into your workplace with antlers or purple skin.

Admittedly, you’re morbidly curious about the case and what all of this could mean for Earth’s future, but you keep your fascination lowkey. You don’t need any of your coworkers thinking you’re the next alien-obsessed Mulder from X-Files. But then again, you’re not curious enough to visit the actual scene, so maybe you’re not the crazy one here.

You feel fine when you get home from work that day, but as you get washed up and settle into your usual evening routine, you can’t shake the eeriness gripping your subconscious. It’s not necessarily a bad feeling, either, just...foreign. Like an emotion you’ve never felt before, though you didn’t know there were even still new emotions to discover. Shaking your head, you figure maybe you should lay off the alien stuff for the rest of the week.

Before you head to bed that night, you go around the house making sure all the doors and windows are locked as you normally do. You pause at the backdoor for a reason you can’t explain, and the strange feeling grows stronger. At this point, you’re a bit frightened about what this is all about, but you can’t go to sleep without knowing. Curiosity takes over as you open the blinds and stare into the darkness of your backyard.

You don’t see anything right away. There are trees, bushes, your potted plants, and lawn chairs...everything looks normal. It’s only when you lean closer to the glass to squint that you see a figure lying in the grass. You jump once you catch sight of it, terrified that some monster or murderer has found their way onto your property. There was nothing there earlier when you closed the blinds, so whoever or whatever it is must’ve recently showed up.

You’re about ready to dial 911 when you realize the figure is curled in the fetal position and unmoving...almost like they’re unconscious. Or dead.

This is ridiculous. You feel like one of those people who always dies first in the horror movies because they went into the room the killer was obviously hiding in, but you’re overcome with the strong impulse to step outside. You grip the doorknob tightly, debating whether you should unlock it or not.

“...Fuck. Don’t let me regret this.”

You open the door with your phone in hand, the device serving as your flashlight. There’s still the screen door to get through, which you pause at for a moment. The figure remains unmoving even with the sound of the door opening.

“Hello?!” You call out to the individual, but there’s no response. Your phone’s light can’t reach them from there, which forces you to open the screen door and step out onto the porch. They’re still feet away, but from this closer distance, it seems like they’re wearing a sort of armor or full-body suit...maybe like a cosplay?

“Hope this isn’t some weirdo weeb passed out on my lawn…” you mutter, cautiously stepping onto the grass. As you approach, you can see now that the figure is likely male, though their back is to you so you can’t be totally sure. “Um, hello there? Can you hear me?” No response.

By now, you are only a few feet away from them. The person looks to be an Asian guy, with long blonde hair haloing his face. His features are angular and smooth, and he is indeed wearing some kind of body armor, its color unlike anything you’ve seen. Instead of being all one hue or even a few, it reflects the light from your phone and glows with a rainbow-like phosphorescence. The material itself looks translucent, but you can’t see through it; it creates a mind-bending optical illusion.

Your stomach suddenly drops to your feet. Is this who was in that UFO in the city center? It seems too out-there to be true, but your intuition is telling you otherwise. This can’t be fucking real.

You kneel on the wet grass next to the man and try to look for signs of life. You can hear his breathing, so he’s thankfully not dead. But he doesn’t look to be in good shape, either. He definitely won’t be able to get up on his own; he probably used the last of his energy to drag himself into your yard.

“Damn.” You turn the flashlight off and slip your phone into your sweatpants pocket. It seems like there’s no other options right now. You could call the police, but they’d probably accuse you of being in cahoots with this weird dude and drag you off to jail. Or they could cart him off for government experimentation, which sounds equally terrible. So with those things in mind, you gently maneuver his upper body until you’re able to hook your arms under his armpits and drag him towards your house.

You just really hope none of your nosy neighbors are seeing this right now.

He’s surprisingly light, and you get him inside the house fairly quickly. Once you’ve locked the door again, you pull him over to the living room so he’s propped against your couch. He still isn’t fully conscious, but his head and lips move as if he’s dreaming about something.

“What was that…?” You lean closer, trying to read his lips for some sort of clue. Surprisingly, you can make out the word water, which he mouths over and over again. “Water…” You run into the kitchen to pour a glass and bring it back to him, making sure not to spill any on the way over.

You press it to his lips, unsure if he’ll be able to drink, but to your amazement his muscles respond and he drinks quickly as you tip the glass. Soon, the water is all gone. You set the glass to the side with your palms sweating and watch as his face flutters even more. 

“Can you...hear me?”

His eyes open only slightly. This movement seems to cause him some pain, though you aren’t sure why. Maybe he has a headache since he was dehydrated? You scramble to turn the overhead light off, not wanting to make matters worse. He still doesn’t try to open his eyes any wider, though.

“Who are you? Were you...did you crash here?” You feel a little bad about asking so many questions, but you’re dying for answers as to what the hell is going on.

The man licks his lips, and his mouth parts like he’s going to answer. But his throat is still dry, and it hurts to talk.

“...Shit.” You get him another glass of water and let him drink until it’s gone again. He seems a little better after that.

“Th-this...” He clears his throat a couple times and tries again. “This is E-Earth, right?”

Now you’re the one lost for words. Although you already figured he couldn’t be from here, hearing it out loud makes your blood rush and your heart race. “Um, yes...this is Earth. Was...the UFO yours?”

He sighs, and his head falls back against the couch arm. “Yes.”

“It’s destroyed,” you say, and then feel silly about it. “But you already know that.” 

He doesn’t answer that. He just slowly glances around your living room instead, looking as if he’s never seen a stranger setup. The quietness is awkward, and you almost feel like he must be judging your taste for interior design. “Do you have a name?”

More silence. You decide he probably won’t answer until he finally says, “You can call me Yuta.”

“Yuta.” You tell him your name too, and he just nods, almost imperceptibly. He doesn’t say much without prompting, which makes it hard for you to know how to approach the situation. You don’t want to overwhelm him with questions, but it doesn’t look like he’s going to speak unless you do. “How did you end up here? I mean, in my—uh, my yard?”

Yuta shakes his head and then winces. “I crashed, and then...I just ran. The ship was melting. I just ran. I hid...I went from place to place, hiding. Don’t know how I got here.”

You wonder how he made it all the way from the city center to your home without being spotted, especially with that armor. You can only conclude that he must be stealth at hiding. Or maybe someone did spot him and the feds are about to bust down your door any minute. You take a shaky breath and try to push that anxious thought to the back of your mind.

Suddenly Yuta fixes you with a suspicious glare. “Will you reveal that I’m here?”

You try not to get offended, because you’d honestly be thinking the same if you were a newly-landed alien in a foreign land. “No. I don’t have any reason to do that. I just want to help. I’m not looking to be on anyone’s 6 o’clock news or cheap tabloid. You probably don’t believe me, but you can have my word for it...if that means anything to you.”

He’s quiet again, though you can tell he’s still skeptical.

“Um, do you need anything? More water?”

He sits up straighter at the mention of that. “Water.” You reach for the glass again, but he frowns. “Not that. I need…something more than that.” He looks around again, but when he doesn't see what he’s searching for, he attempts to stand only to slump down again.

“Slow down there, I don’t think you’re gonna make it like that. Can I help?”

You end up slinging his arm across your shoulder and letting him lean his body against you while you lead him to the bathroom. That’s the biggest source of water in the house, and you assume he must be wanting a bath or shower or something. Even aliens have their hygiene needs, you guess.

You turn the bathroom light on and have Yuta sit on the toilet lid as you turn the bathtub faucet. “Is...this what you meant?” He nods, and you put the plug in and let the tub fill up.

“Just water. Nothing else. I need to recharge,” he says, and before you can ask what he means by that, he starts undressing in front of you. 

At first, your reaction is delayed; you’re struck with surprise when you realize the armor isn’t actually a whole bodysuit, but more like...connected panels of material that can be taken off. You don’t understand the material at all, it doesn’t resemble anything on Earth you can think of—but of course, it’s alien tech. It conforms to his body as he’s wearing it but takes on a more rigid form once it’s peeled off, like actual armor.

Then, he gets ready to take the bottoms off and something finally clicks in your brain that oh my God he’s about to get naked in front of me.

“Whoa!” You spin around and cover your eyes for good measure, glad that your brown skin hides the way your face is burning right now. You step towards the open door. “Uh, I’ll just leave, sorry—”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Um, what?”

“Doesn’t really matter to me,” Yuta says, pulling the last of his suit off. He steps into the tub and sits down in it, putting his hands underneath the stream of water rushing out of the faucet. The skin on his hands seems to ripple, like it’s readjusting itself, and the hairs stand up on the back of your neck at that. You forget to be embarrassed at his unclothed state as you watch it happen.

“What’s going on with that? And why did you need the water?”

Yuta splashes his face before answering, and he turns to look at you, the droplets of water sliding off the ends of his hair. “I’m part of a Water Race. Water is my home. Our bodies have adapted to be built for living in water, and it’s dangerous to be without it for too long.”

“Adaptation? But you look like a regular human.”

“It’s just a skin.”

“A skin?” You echo in horror, a sudden flashback to Silence of the Lambs popping into your mind. “Someone else’s skin?” 

Yuta gives you a look that seems to say he can’t believe you’re asking such a stupid question. “No, it’s my skin. It’s just not my natural form.” To prove his point, he holds his hand out, and right before your eyes his human skin pulls back and morphs into something much more scaly and green. His fingers are actually more like talons, with long black nails on the ends, and there’s translucent webbing between each one.

You gasp and step back, trying to catch your breath at the sight of something so very not human. The skin reforms around his hand—you assume he has to be willing it with his mind somehow, because he doesn’t even move—and his digits look just as human as ever.

“How the hell do you hide your nails under there? Isn’t it just like...wearing a bodysuit?”

Yuta shakes his head. “No. Once the skin is on, it becomes...part of me. My hand becomes a human hand. I’m not hiding anything, it just is. It’s hard to explain.”

“Have you been to Earth before? Is that why you have a human skin, because...adaptation or some shit? This is all so wild.”

“I can shift into different skins if I want, if I gather enough genetic information on certain species’ inhabitants...but there are limitations.” That doesn’t exactly answer your question, but you figure maybe it’s best if you didn’t know. You can at least assume he’s been in contact with humans before.

“I see…” You fidget for a few seconds before speaking what’s on your mind. “Okay, one last thing...you said there are limitations. Does that mean you can’t transform into, like...a dung beetle or something?”

Yuta gives you another are you serious look and you put your hands up. “Just wondering. It was worth a try.”

You feel awkward just standing there, and you feel like maybe you should give him some privacy even if he doesn’t care much, so you leave the bathroom to find something for him to wear.

You’re not sure if you’ll find anything that fits him, so you end up settling on a light pink bathrobe and decide he’ll have to work with that for now. You slip back into the bathroom to leave it on the sink, averting your eyes from his nude form in your bathtub. “Um, here’s something to wear...not sure if anything else will fit, this is all I have for now. Sorry.” You don’t wait for him to respond— he probably won’t anyway—before slipping back out.

It’s nearing 1 A.M. at this point, which is late considering you still have work tomorrow. You sigh and curl yourself up on the couch, hoping you won’t have to stay up for very much longer.

You’re not sure when you drifted off or how long you were out, but you wake up to the sound of footsteps and see Yuta coming out of the bathroom wearing the robe you’ve given him. You have to laugh a little at the sight of him in the light pink material, though you think it suits him in a way.

“Yeah, you’re gonna need some clothes.”

Yuta raises his eyebrow. “I still have my suit.”

“Yeah, but...don’t you want something else to wear? Your ship is pretty much gone, so you’ll probably be on Earth for a while...and if you don’t want anyone realizing you’re not from here, you’ll have to wear regular clothes.”

Yuta visibly upsets at the idea of his ship’s destroyed state, even though he knows there’s not much he can do about it. “I guess. I shared which planet I was heading to before I left, but...Earth is a very big place. And my trackers were destroyed with my ship, so…”

“I’m sorry,” you say, though you don’t know how much comfort that can be. “We can look for some clothes tomorrow. It’s probably better for you not to leave the house right now, but...that’s what online shopping is for.”

“Online shopping…?” Yuta seems puzzled by the concept, but he doesn’t ask any further. Then he looks around the room again. “Is there somewhere I can rest?”

“Oh, yeah, follow me.” You get up from the couch to head upstairs where the guest bedroom is. The house isn’t huge—it was your grandmother’s before she passed it on to you—but it’s more than enough for you alone, and it should fit one more just fine. You open the door and turn on the light, illuminating the small room. “It hasn’t been used in a while, so excuse any dust. I can fix that tomorrow, but it’s getting late...” you stifle a yawn, “...so we should probably go to sleep now.”

Yuta looks at you and nods. 

“Um, well...goodnight.” You wave at him from the doorway before closing it.

As you make your way down the stairs, a sudden weariness and apprehension comes over you. An alien in your home? Escaped from a recently crashed UFO? Wearing one of your bathrobes? You’re almost positive you haven’t thought this through deeply enough, but you’re in it now. Might as well see where the rabbit hole leads to.

The next morning, you prepare yourself to go to work like you usually do. For a while, the house is so quiet that you almost forget Yuta is there until you see him standing in the kitchen entryway, still wearing his pink robe, and you almost jump through the ceiling.

“Jesus, you came out of nowhere,” you gasp, holding your heart.

“Where are you going?” Yuta asks. He steps into the kitchen and tentatively sits down in one of the dining table chairs.

“To work,” you say, and then pause. Maybe it isn’t such a good idea to leave a freshly-landed alien at home alone. “Will you be okay here by yourself? I could come over on my lunch break…”

“What am I supposed to do here the whole time?” Yuta asks, sounding displeased at the thought of being abandoned for hours.

“Well...you could watch TV? There’s the on-demand channel...the fridge is available for you too, just try not to clean out my—wait, do you even eat human food?”

Yuta shrugs, crossing his arms. “Not really. It’s not a big source of nutrients for us.” 

You nod awkwardly. “Huh. Well, that’s...interesting.” The stress of the situation is already making your head pound and you haven’t even left for work yet. “Uh, yeah—I think I’ll just come over later and check in...come on, I’ll at least show you how to work the remote before I leave.”

You bid Yuta goodbye once you’re about to go, though you feel more than a little hesitant about leaving him there. There isn’t much other choice, though; you can’t afford to take a day off on such short notice.

The extraterrestrial sighs, sprawling across the couch and looking at the ceiling. The TV is already playing the channel you left it on, and Yuta turns to the screen and watches as a group of humans make weird food dishes he’s never seen before.

“This is stupid.”

The rest of the week with Yuta manages to be an adventure even though he never steps foot outside the house. 

Yuta doesn’t take a liking to human food, which means he opts for spending most of his time in the guest bathtub instead, claiming that the water gives him more nourishment than meals can. You don’t know how true that is, but you’re not going to fight him on it. Less food you have to prepare, you reason...although you often end up making extra anyway and getting him to try a few bites. It feels odd to not see him eat.

Living with someone from outer space is not really as weird as you expected it might be, which surprises you. Yuta stays in his human skin whenever he’s around you, and you steer clear of the guest bathroom when it’s occupied lest you walk in on something crazy. 

You’ve taught Yuta about new concepts he didn’t know before or wasn’t overly familiar with. He’s particularly intrigued with online shopping, and you ended up buying him a bunch of outfits that you both thought he’d look nice in. He doesn’t seem to be big on technology, which surprises you considering how advanced his UFO looked even its ruined state, but maybe human tech is more primitive than what he’s used to. He’s quite fascinated with the microwave, though, and how it can heat anything up in minutes.

With you uncovering new bits of information each day, you continually wonder how different his homeworld must be from the Earth. You can’t pull much out of him about it, for whatever reasons he has for keeping the information close, but you try to let him talk about it at his pace without pressuring him.

You could probably get used to living like this. 

Maybe not your wallet, though. You’re definitely not loving how your water bill is going to look once it comes in the mail.

None of your coworkers or neighbors know—not that it’s any of their business anyway. You don’t know how long Yuta is going to stay, or what the hell you’re going to do when his people finally catch wind of his whereabouts and land a UFO in your backyard, but you figure you’ll get to that part when it comes.

On one Saturday morning, you wake up to the sound of tapping on your door. You try to ignore it, thinking it’s just some woodpecker setting up shop outside your window, but you’re proven wrong when the door swings open.

You pull the covers away from your face for a moment to see Yuta standing there looking at you. You stare at him for a few seconds before sighing.

“Why are you up so early? It’s the weekend,” you groan, pulling the covers back over your head. 

“Why do you sleep so late?” Yuta retorts, still standing in your doorway. You don’t know whether he expects you to get up and do a trick, but it’s not happening. You peel the blanket away so it’s just below your eyes and look at him.

“What?”

“It’s not fun being here alone all day, you know,” he says, crossing his arms.

“So...what? Do you want me to play with you or something?” You can’t stop your sudden laugh, but you feel bad about once it’s out. He has just lost his ride home and has no foreseeable way back until someone notices his absence. Plus, needing to stay hidden and cooped up like a criminal can’t be enjoyable.

Yuta rolls his eyes at your response and starts down the hallway again, but you jump out of the bed and follow him. “Wait, Yuta, I’m sorry. That was stupid. I know it can’t be easy living like this. I’m not sure if I can make it better, but I’m willing to try.”

Yuta pauses in the hall and turns back to look at you. “I’m tired of being in here all the time....no offense. But there’s only so much I can take. I know I’m supposed to be in hiding, but it’s not like anyone can tell the difference. Even you couldn’t. Can’t we go out for one day?”

You think about it for a moment and figure he’s right. You both were trying to be overly cautious at first, but there’s no real way anyone would notice anything unless he shifted. “I guess we could...as long as we don’t go anywhere with a lot of water.”

“I have more self-control than that,” Yuta scoffs, though his words trail off as he’s already heading back to his room to get dressed.

You and Yuta walk around downtown for a little while, although you can’t shake the lingering nervousness you feel. You both decided not to head back to the city center any time soon; there’s not much left of the broken ship anyway, with scientists carting off pieces of it for research. Just as you thought. It’s too big to transport all at once, but you’re sure the remaining parts will be gone within the next couple weeks.

Yuta is continually surprised by how many new and unfamiliar things he spots along the way—things he actually gets to see up close and in detail. Kinda hard to focus when you’re running and hiding for your life.

Eventually, Yuta slows down as you walk past a small and colorful restaurant. “What’s that?” he asks, pointing up at the sign. You stop to turn around and see what he’s gesturing to.

“That’s just a hamburger joint...you won’t wanna go in there,” you say, raising your eyebrows. Because you don’t eat food. Despite that, Yuta still seems curious about the restaurant and he hesitates to walk away. Realizing that you aren’t going to get anywhere, you go to stand next to him and peer inside. There are a few people already inside, sitting at scattered tables and eating their food. “Do you want to go in, or…? ‘Cause you have to eat something if we do. This is your idea.”

“I’ll eat, let’s just go,” Yuta says, grasping your hand and pulling you into the restaurant.

You wave at the person behind the counter who greets you as you walk in, while Yuta is busy scanning every inch of the place. You let him look over the menu for a little while, but with so many options available he isn’t sure what to get—especially when he’s not sure if he’ll like any of them—so you end up picking for the both of you.

When you finally get your food, you take it to one of the tables. You watch attentively as Yuta takes the first bite of his hamburger, and you try to stifle your giggles as you watch his face go from nonchalance to bewilderment to shock.

“This is actually...good.”

“Wait, this is really the first meal you’ve liked? Are you saying my cooking is bad? Damn.” You chuckle, shaking your head. 

“I’m not answering that.” Yuta laughs along with you, which is probably the first genuinely happy expression he’s shown since he’s been here.

Yuta has a very pretty smile, you realize. You’re a little taken aback by it. You haven’t seen much of it since you met him, but it’s here now and striking in its genuine quality. It makes you feel all warm and fuzzy inside...which you mainly attribute to the satisfaction of doing something nice for someone else. Of course. Who wouldn’t enjoy a nice meal they didn’t have to pay for?

Things go smoothly for a while as you both eat and pretend to make boring small talk since you can’t talk about him being an alien in public. However, you feel sweat on the back of your neck when you see your coworker Alex walk through the door with his boyfriend. This city is too small for its own good sometimes. 

You try not to call attention to yourself and Yuta, keeping your gaze on your food, but he spots you anyway and waves enthusiastically. Alex gestures for his partner to go ahead and order while he comes over to your table.

“Hey, Y/N! It’s great to see you! Too bad we missed you at the UFO wreck today, though; we went out again one last time before they take the whole thing away,” he rushes out in one breath. Yuta’s eye twitches at the mention of his ship, and you’re suddenly on edge, hoping the situation doesn’t turn sour.

“Oh, uh, wow, that’s...cool!” you choke out, pinching your straw between your fingers. Before you can think of a way to divert the subject, Alex turns to Yuta.

“Nice to meet you, I’m Alex! Who’s this? Your boyfriend?” The last few words are directed at you. Alex gives you a playful grin, and you toss him an embarrassed smile back.

“Uh, no, he’s my friend! Yuta.”

“Nice to meet you,” Yuta says, though you can recognize his tone is a bit dry.

“Pleasure’s all mine!” Alex’s boyfriend calls him from the other side of the restaurant, and he turns to respond before taking his leave. “Ah well, looks like we’ll have to cut it short, but it was so great to see you guys. Enjoy your lunch!”

You let out the breath you were subconsciously holding once he leaves.

“Boyfriend…” Yuta murmurs.

“What?”

“That would be really weird. Wouldn’t it? We’re not even the same species,” he says, lowering his voice. It’s not like you don’t agree, but you admittedly don’t appreciate the way Yuta screws his face up at the thought. You prickle with embarrassment.

You scoff, taking a sip of your drink. “Well I’m not exactly eager to date an overgrown fish, so…” You almost expect Yuta to fall into another one of his moods at your words, but he actually chuckles a bit, which surprises you.

“Then it’s mutual!” Yuta sticks his tongue out and you roll your eyes.

The warm and fuzzy feeling, you soon find out, is not a one-time thing.

You don’t quite know what to make of that. You wouldn’t like for Yuta to go back to his initial broody state, of course, but you’re starting to believe this feeling can’t just be attributed to your charitable actions. You can’t stop thinking about the more playful side of Yuta you saw at the burger place that day, and the way he’s been gradually more open with you since then.

Yuta usually spends his nights splashing around in the guest bathtub, but one night he wanders into the living room and sees you putting your afro in plaits. He becomes weirdly fascinated with the process, watching you carefully and asking occasional questions. Amused by his interest, you answer all his questions and even offer to let him do one section. 

“It’s probably not the same, but I used to braid my friend’s hair often…” he says wistfully as he settles in behind you. “We did a lot of things together.”

Your ears perk up. “Oh? You sound like you were very close,” you say, resting your chin on your knees.

“Really close,” he affirms. His hands are gentle in your hair, as testament to his words. You close your eyes and relax into the sensation, and before you know it, that warmth is spreading through your chest again. You even allow yourself to wonder what it’d be like for him to do this all the time, tending to your hair and telling you about his homeworld, before you open your eyes again and quickly pull yourself out of that reverie. You probably shouldn’t get too used to this, you reason with yourself. “I think she’s what you’d call a mermaid...except the look is a bit...different.”

“Different?” you echo, wondering if you’ll get an explanation.

“They don’t have human arms or anything like that...it’s more like tentacles.”

“Ah,” you try to imagine that, though it’s hard. “That’s certainly unique.”

“Maybe you’d like it...my planet, I mean.”

“You think I would? Why?”

“I dunno, just a feeling…”

“If only I could breathe underwater,” you laugh. “You’d take me back, though? Hypothetically, of course. I’m not too human for you?”

“Will you ever let that one go? It’s probably the least I could do after setting up residence here. Maybe we’ll get you an alien costume, though, so you’ll fit in.”

“How nice of you to think of me in all my humanness. God, the universe is something else…”

You start when Yuta’s hands leave your hair. “I think I’m done?” he says, sitting back on his feet. You grab the mirror from the coffee table and look at the braid you let him do.

“Oh wow, it looks good.” You purse your lips to hide the grin about to break across your face. “Do you wanna do the rest?”

“If you’ll let me.”

“Go ahead then, my hands needed a break anyway.”

You sit back and let Yuta finish the rest of your hair, listening quietly as he tells you more about his friend from his homeworld. Her name is unpronounceable to you, but it sounds pretty all the same. They grew up together, he says, and have been on lots of adventures over the years, though he still keeps that same vagueness he always has when describing his life. He ends up getting you to tell him more about your life, which you do; you figure he probably doesn’t know a whole lot about you, either.

Yuta hands you the mirror when he’s done, and his head pops up next to yours in the reflection. “Good?”

“It’s great!” you say, and you really mean it.

You discover that, strangely enough, Yuta has an affinity for sci-fi movies. Go figure. He especially seems to like the campiness of alien films; then again, everything is campy to him because of how different it is from how extraterrestrials actually live.

You are in the middle of watching The Fly when it comes to one of sex scenes, and you try not to sweat. It’s always a little awkward to watch sex scenes with other people, but doing it with an alien gives the whole thing an extra layer of weirdness.

“Human sex is so funny,” Yuta says out of nowhere. You just barely avoid choking on your drink.

“Uh, o-okay. Do I want to know what that means?”

Yuta only shrugs and leans farther back onto the couch, looking completely unbothered about what he’s just said. “It just is.”

“...I’m sure your people must procreate some kinda way?”

“Yeah, but it’s not quite this. But when I’m in this form, I can do it as humans do.”

That makes you pause, and you’re not sure what to do with that information. Actually, your mind has already decided for itself and is trying to go to a place you don’t want it to, and you’re mildly horrified by that revelation. There’s no real reason why you should be curious about it. And yet...

“Hummm...have you done it before? In this form?” You keep your eyes glued to the screen, which is now showing a shirtless Jeff Goldblum doing acrobatics—but that’s still less awkward than looking over at Yuta right now.

“There was one time.”

There is a twinge of something in your chest. Fascination? Sure. Revulsion? Maybe not that. Dare you call it anything close to jealousy? You immediately throw that one out the door, sink further into your seat, and try not to think about what your life has come to.

“Okay, since you still won’t tell me directly if you’ve been here before, at least tell me this; did it happen here on Earth? With a human?”

Yuta shakes his head. “Some other aliens have weird fetishes. I only did it because she asked and was really adamant about it.”

“Ooookay, you know what…” You get up from the couch and walk to the kitchen, laughing awkwardly all the way. You don’t have any particular reason to go in there, but you have to do something with the nervous energy that’s about to make you jump out of your skin. You pretend to shuffle around in the fridge for a minute so you don’t look too silly getting up for no reason.

After taking a moment to calm down, you turn back to Yuta. “Okay. Hypothetically, if you wanted, could you actually…? With a human? In your natural form? Or would the parts be incompatible, or...”

“Maybe...I’m not sure. It’s not like I’ve ever tried. Why?” Yuta gives you a look that’s partway between curiosity and incredulity, and you wave your hand in dismissal.

“It’s just a question.”

Yuta leans forward on the couch, barely concealing his own amusement at whatever he’s cooking up in his mind. “Are you saying you want to try it with me?”

“You’re not funny,” you sigh, trying to ignore the way your skin is burning at that suggestion. “Remind me not to ask you anything like that again.”

When you get home from work one weeknight, you roll your eyes at the mass text sitting in your inbox, forwarded to you from Alex. Another after-work party, which means another event where someone will run through the sprinklers naked and everyone will pretend like they don’t remember it the next workday.

You don’t know how you’re going to get out of this one, especially with Yuta, who will likely want to go if he finds out, so you decide to just come out and say it and see what happens.

“Hey Yuta…” You slide up behind him where he’s sitting on the couch. “I just wanted to let you know I won’t be at home for a few hours on Saturday. I’m going to a party this weekend. It’s a friend’s party, someone from work.”

Yuta looks at you forlornly. “The same person we met at the restaurant?”

“No, but he’s gonna be there too. Look, I know what you’re thinking, but I really don’t know if it’s safe for you to go…”

“That’s not fair, the last time at the restaurant went well,” Yuta argues.

“Yes, but this guy has a pool and he’s a dickhead who likes to push people in and what if you get caught off guard and change unexpectedly?”

Yuta’s response is as straightforward as you expected it to be. “Then I’ll punch him in the face.”

You laugh at that and shake your head, coming to sit beside him on the couch. “Ugh. As satisfying as that sounds, I don’t need the extra stress of dealing with the aftermath. I don’t know, Yuta...do you think you’ll be okay? God, I feel like an overprotective mom or some shit.”

“Y/N, it’ll be fine, stop worrying. I can take care of myself,” Yuta insists, putting his hand on your shoulder and looking into your eyes. He’s a little closer than you anticipated, which makes your heart rate increase a little. You chalk that reaction up to his invasion of your personal space and shift away, groaning.

“Fine, I’ll bring you. But if shit goes down, I can’t promise an easy way out. Let’s just keep things lowkey, alright?”

“Of course I can do that! I’ve been doing it so far haven’t I?” he says, but somehow you’re not entirely convinced.

The party is filled with people you know from work and a slew of unfamiliar faces, probably your coworkers’ friends. It’s mostly a backyard party, like you already knew, although there are some people mingling within the house.

There are already a few people lounging in the pool. In any other scenario, it might be inviting to you, but now you just look at all that water with a looming sense of anxiety. Yuta sticks close to your side, saying nothing but studying everyone around him.

“Y/N!” your coworker David shouts from the backdoor of his house. He holds up his beer in salutation and you wave back at him, mildly annoyed that he’s brought everyone’s attention to you both. He hustles over to you and claps you on the back strong enough to make your bones rattle, and you wince. “Hey dude!” He reaches across you to pull Yuta into a handshake, and Yuta also winces when he grips his hand a little too tight. “Make yourselves at home, I’ve got everything you could ever need—including the booze and babes!” You both nod awkwardly before David goes off to greet someone else who’s just pulled up. You roll your eyes once he’s gone.

Yuta’s eyebrows draw together. “That was…”

“Annoying,” you finish for him.

“You don’t seem to like him. Why did you decide to come?”

“Workplace politics, if you’re the only one who doesn’t come it’s awkward, ugh. It’s just bullshit. Let’s not get into it.” You walk towards the house and Yuta follows, and you nod at a few people you know along the way.

You find Alex in the kitchen, where he offers to make drinks for you and Yuta. You cast a glance at Yuta, wondering if he’ll take up the offer; you have no idea how he’ll react to alcohol, or if they drink any equivalent of it on his homeworld.

“Um, I think I’ll pass.”

“Oh okay, straight-edge guy! That’s cool too,” Alex grins, making just the one drink for you. As you and Alex talk, the girl from your department whose neighborhood was about to be evacuated sidles up to your little group.

“I’ve never seen you before. What’s your name?”

“Oh...it’s Yuta.”

“Yuta? How cool, I’m Sooyoung.”

Little did you know that that one introduction would expand into them having a half-hour long conversation right there in the kitchen. You really don’t know how Yuta is pulling this off without spilling the beans, but then again, you do; he’s good enough at manipulating the conversation to make it seem like he’s sharing personal info when he’s really not. Plus, it doesn’t hurt that he throws in things you taught him every so often.

Alex notices your changing demeanor and follows you as you walk into the living room, finally exhausted with playing third wheel. “Hm, someone seems a little spicy.”

You cough. “I’m fine, it’s just cramped in there, David should really invest in a bigger house..this place could use a remodel.” You throw a glance around the living room, not wanting to see the mischievous look in Alex’s eyes.

“Well, remodel aside, it’s not really my business, but you certainly seem to have a little green monster brewing here.”

You give Alex a long look. “Don’t. He’s my friend. He’s not even—” You have to stop yourself before you expose anything, and you shift nervously on your feet.

“Not even what? Your type? I don’t know, he’s handsome enough to me. You can’t go wrong with a pretty boy. Don’t tell Xavier I said that, though.”

“Lord, let me get the hell out of here…” You leave Alex to cackle to himself while you go out into the backyard again, holding your drink and mulling around the edges of the activity. Too busy wrestling with your own emotions, you don’t realize how close you’ve drifted towards the pool.

“Hey, Y/N?” David says from behind you.

“Yeah?” You go to turn towards him, but before you can, you feel a huge shove from behind and the next thing you know your feet are off the ground and you’re in the pool. It all happens so fast that you can barely catch your bearings, and for a terrifying moment you’re convinced you’re about to drown.

The seconds feel like minutes, and you can’t even open your eyes to tell up from down. The next thing you register is an arm around your waist, and somehow you’re being pulled up even though you’re too panicked to even control your limbs. Your head pops above the water and you cough and sputter loudly, trying to take in air. You try to blink the water out of your eyes, though it drips off your hair and makes it even harder to see.

You’re still not sure what the hell is going on until you’re hauled out of the water and sitting on the ground. Someone hands you a towel, and you hear a female voice saying you’re such an asshole, David.

You wipe the water off of your face and then you’re finally able to see; Yuta is crouching in front of you, just as soaked as you are and staring at you with a worried expression. You look back at him, disoriented and a little dumbfounded at his still-human state.

“You didn’t…”

Even though you’re still trembling with the fear of almost drowning, you’re unable to look anywhere but at Yuta for that moment—at the pure concern on his face.

“Nice going, David,” someone else says sarcastically.

“It was just a bit of a prank! No hard feelings guys, come on. Y/N?” You realize David is standing on your left, and he tries to come closer, his hands open in an apologetic gesture. You jerk away from him, holding the towel to your shaking form.

“Get the fuck away from me. You’re a fucking idiot!” you shout. “All you do is ‘play pranks’ and then you wonder why no one likes you!” That draws a few barely concealed laughs out of the people standing nearby, though you don’t think any of it is funny. David steps back, unsure how to respond and looking truly embarrassed for once in his life.

Filled with anger, you try to get to your feet but you’re still unsteady. Yuta puts his arm around you again, lifting you up and encouraging you to lean your weight on him.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you.”

You don’t have much to say on the way back home. You insist on leaving right away even though Yuta suggests you sit and wait until the tremors subside. He obviously can’t drive you back home, so it’s all he can offer, though it doesn’t make you feel much better.

The silence itself isn’t particularly awkward to Yuta, but he is uncomfortable anyway because he knows it stems from your own discomfort. At a red light, he turns to you.

“Are you okay?”

“Not really.”

He’s quiet for a few moments, and then he speaks again. “I know you’re mad about the pool, but...it seems like there’s more than that. Did...you not like me spending so much time with Sooyoung?”

You scoff. “You can’t be serious. I don’t care what you and that girl do.”

“You’re not a very good liar.” You’re too worn out to argue, so you merely give him a sidelong glance. Yuta sits back in his seat and watches a few cars zip past, their tail lights looking like clashing stars against the night. He’s not used to so much...manmade stuff. There was his ship and his trackers, of course, but he still has a hard time adjusting to be surrounded by so much iron and steel. His own planet is ruled by nature, by the vast oceans in all their unpolluted original essence, but Earth—or at least this portion of it—is much, much different.

He means to glance back at you, but his eyes linger for a while longer than intended. He’s not sure why. Maybe it’s because your outfit is a pretty color, or because the coils of your hair look shiny reflecting the light. He’s never put much thought into human beings before, and his limited experiences with them were mostly better left unremembered. Taking a human form was no huge deal for him; just a move that was necessary at the time.

But now, he’s seeing humanity—and most specifically, you—in a different light, and he’s uncertain what to do with this realization. People have feelings, thoughts, and dreams, like his own species, or like any other. He’s beginning to care what you think of him, how you react to him, even though he doesn’t know why this matters.

“You look pretty,” Yuta says. The compliment is the last thing you expected from him. It seems especially random after what happened at the party; here you are, soaking wet and incredibly uncomfortable. You’re a little late to put your foot on the gas pedal once the light turns green, and someone behind you honks.

“Pretty? I thought humans were weird to you.” Your mind goes back to The Fly and the subsequent conversation you had, and your hands tighten minutely around the steering wheel.

“You are. That hasn’t changed.”

“Good to know.” You don’t want to laugh, but this does make you crack a smile. “But...thanks. And...thanks for that, at the pool, you know. I should...probably trust you more.”

The rest of the ride is a little more talkative after that, and Yuta is happy that he could lighten your mood if even a little bit. Although he wouldn’t tell you, he’s becoming accustomed to your smile, and he’s more displeased than he thought he could be when it’s absent.

The thunder booms so loudly that it makes your window frames shake. It almost reminds you of the day Yuta’s ship fell out of the sky. You pull the covers tighter around yourself as if they alone could protect you from the storm’s fierceness. Storm clouds have been brewing all day, but the skies didn’t open until you and Yuta went to bed. Now, the rain and lightning is in full force. The rain pounds against your window, sounding more like hail or even bullets.

You’re startled for a second time when there’s a knock on your bedroom door.

“Come in?”

The door opens slightly and Yuta appears in the small sliver of space. “Sorry, but...can I sleep here? The storm...” He gestures to the window, where a crack of lightning strikes right after. He’s wearing a sleep shirt and loose pants, and his blonde hair is disheveled. 

“Uh, sure.” You shuffle over to make room for him. “I guess this isn’t your type of water, is it?” He huddles underneath the covers with you, facing you with his arm tucked under the unoccupied pillow.

“Not when it’s so intense like this.”

You hum in acknowledgment. “It’s scary. Does rainy weather make you think of your homeworld often?”

“Often,” he repeats. “But...I think I’d be worse off if I weren’t here.”

“Here...on Earth?”

“I mean, here with you.”

“Oh,” is all you can think to say. It’s a surprisingly personal confession, though you are grateful you’ve become someone so important in his life already, even if it’s only because you’ve given him shelter. That familiar warmth spreads through you again. 

Warm and fuzzies = gratefulness to a friend, the feeling you get when you pet a cute puppy. Right. It’s not the sensation you get when you think you might have feelings for your extraterrestrial friend, you try to convince yourself. “I’m...glad you’re here. Maybe not under these circumstances, but still.”

Yuta nods without speaking, but he doesn’t take his eyes away from you. You think he must be waiting on you to say something else.

“What?” you ask quietly when he keeps staring at you. “Take a picture, it will last longer.” Your joke does little to clear the air, and the tension keeps rising. You should probably be the first one to look away, to end whatever weird game this is and go to sleep, but you can’t. It’s unexplainable.

Yuta props himself up on his elbow, and you’re about to ask him where he’s going when he slips his hand onto your bare shoulder. You’re already covered by the blankets, but you suddenly feel even hotter with his hand on you, sliding up from your shoulder to the side of your face. “Y-Yuta…?”

You don’t know what to say or do, but you don’t object when he leans closer. Your faces are only inches apart now, like he’s hesitating and wondering if he should cross the line. The thunderstorm is intense, but this moment feels much more suspenseful than that could ever be. And then, it’s suddenly satisfying when his lips are on yours.

The kiss starts gentle. He’s careful as if he’s afraid to hurt you or make you feel uncomfortable. It’s soft and sweet. Things get more heated when his tongue prods against your lower lip and enters your mouth. You don’t know when his hand made it from your face to your side, but he pulls you close with his fingers pressing into the flesh just below your breasts, and you tremble at the proximity.

When you pull away, both of you are breathing harder and unable to look each other in the eye.

“Should we be doing this?” you whisper.

Yuta shakes his head. “I don’t know. But it feels good.”

At those words, you pause for a moment before moving to kiss him again. His lips respond deftly to yours, his body crowding you in and making you feel hot and enraptured with desire from where you still lie under the covers.

His hair is very soft when you slide your hands through it, though you can’t push away the thought that suddenly manifests in the back of your mind. This isn’t really his hair, or his lips, is it? It’s all a mask to cover whatever is underneath, which is something you still don’t entirely know, yet are increasingly curious about.

Yuta’s hand drifts up just high enough to caress the underside of your breast—all still over the cover of your clothes. Abruptly, that thought forces its way to the front of your mind, making itself unavoidable, and you have no idea how to reconcile it. This is all so...very unfamiliar. And undeniably scary.

You pull away from him, your face creased with conflict, and his hand stills on your body. “S-sorry, I…um...this is...”

Subsequently, he pulls his hand away from you, though some part of you doesn’t really want that to happen. “I-it’s fine.”

You both settle back into the sheets, the tense aura from before replaced with one that’s thick with unease. The storm continues on outside, unknowing and uncaring of anything else but its own nature.

Though you would like to pretend it isn’t so, things become strained after the night of the storm.

You and Yuta don’t talk about the kiss. You expected him to say something about it that morning after, but he didn’t acknowledge it, and so you figured you just forget about it, too. What are you thinking, anyway? You’re literally from two different worlds. You don’t have the first clue about what a connection would look like between you, whether it be just sex or a relationship.

Why couldn’t you just fall for a coworker and have a bit of office drama like everyone else? Even that would be simpler.

Why did you have to let your thoughts get the best of you? You don’t have any answer for that, except for maybe your own need to come to terms with your attraction. People have never been very skilled at accepting others different from themselves, you know that much. But that usually counts for people of different ethnicities or cultural backgrounds, not two entirely different species.

You spend the whole week afterwards tearing your mind up with this monologue and trying to figure out what you should do next, because you’re quickly growing weary of coming home to a tense atmosphere. Alex can only give so much advice—not that you’d really tell him the entire situation—without knowing just how complicated everything is.

Where he used to hang out with you and help you with your hair, Yuta spends more time up in the guest bathroom again. You wonder if he thinks you’re disgusted by him. You’d probably think the same if he reacted the way you did.

Unbeknownst to you, Yuta is facing the situation with a similar amount of inner turmoil as you, wondering if he’s gone too far. He’s done many silly things in his life, but he doesn’t know how to undo this mistake. The mistake of kissing you? The mistake of seeing you as more than just another human? The mistake of knowingly flying in a faulty ship? Maybe all of it.

He feels guilty about freezing you out and pretending as if nothing happened, especially with all you’ve done to make him safe and comfortable in your home. But, at the same time, he is equally frightened to face you and discover the real reasoning for why you pulled away that night. Because you’ll never see him as someone you could like? Or maybe even love?

If that’s your truth, he’d rather leave it unsaid.

There aren’t many choices left but to face it. Whether this idea is smart or not is yet to be seen, but you suppose you don’t have many solutions left. And you are sick of being cooped up in the house.

“You sure this is safe?” Yuta asks as he stares at the scenery whizzing past. “You were all freaked out about me being near water before...now you want to go to a lake?”

You glance over at him. “Yes, it’s my parents’ lake property. It’s private, Yuta. No one will be there but us. I think we could both use a mini vacation this weekend, yeah?” 

“I guess, sure.” Yuta shrugs. His demeanor is more closed off than it was before that dreaded kiss, but you can still tell that he’s interested in the idea of getting access to a bigger body of water, even if he doesn’t outwardly express it.

The lake house is two hours out of your city. It hasn’t been used much in the past few years with both you and your parents being busy with work and life, but if there was ever a good time to use it, it’s probably now. You just hope there aren’t any squatters of the furry variety; the last thing you need is to be fighting raccoons or squirrels after stepping through the door.

Luckily, there’s really no one but you two once you reach your destination. The lake is big and pretty like you last remembered it, sparkling under the sun and throwing the rays back in your eyes. Yuta is automatically captivated by it.

“Here it is!” you say, walking along the sand and spreading your arms out towards the body of water. “It might not be much compared to your homeworld, but I hope it’s enough.” You carry your bag up the stairs to the house and turn back to Yuta, who’s still standing by the shore gazing across the water. “You can go in, you know? Get comfortable!”

That seems to snap him out of his trance, and he turns back to you, following you up the steps. “Not right now...I’ll go later.” You’re a little disappointed at that, but you simply nod and open the door to go in.

You spend the day getting increasingly more restless as you and Yuta hang out together. You go on the pier, walk around the entirety of the lake, and even take your dad’s boat out on the water, but he still doesn’t get in.

You eat dinner together later that night, although you’re the one doing most of the eating, and there isn’t much conversation to be had. You’ve both run out of things to say that don’t center around the kiss or why he refuses to get in the water.

Yuta spends a few more moments watching you push your food around your plate before leaning forward. “Why did you bring me here?” he asks.

You sigh heavily. “Do you not like it?”

“No, I do, but…” he hesitates. “Can you answer my question first?

You raise your eyebrows. “Okay, well. I brought you here because...I don’t know. I figure you deserve to have somewhere bigger to swim around in than my guest bathtub.” You laugh nervously.

He seems unconvinced. “Is that it?”

“I’d say so! Why won’t you even take one swim, is the better question? I want you to relax and be yourself.”

He furrows his eyebrows as if he doesn’t know how to reply. “You...aren’t you...repulsed by it? I just figured you wouldn’t want to see me in my natural form. Especially since…” He trails off at the end, and your palms sweat a little.

“No! I know I was weirded out at first, but...I-I guess that was the point of this whole trip, to show you that…” You grapple with your words for a moment, unsure if now is the time to fully confess what you’re feeling. “Look, I want to try, alright? I want to see it at least once. I want to accept you as a whole being, and that means, you know...all of you.”

Yuta smiles gradually at that, and you feel swept up with a sudden wave of affection you weren’t expecting. You are still a bit scared, but you don’t want to turn back now. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure,” you reply, clasping your shaking hands together.

Yuta nods and stands up from the dining table, gesturing for you to follow him. It’s late now, with the moon shining brightly and the last vestiges of dark blue sky giving way to black. The air outside is cool, but not uncomfortably so. You follow Yuta to the pier and watch timidly, your stomach flip-flopping, as he sheds his clothes, leaving them on the wooden deck. Then he slips into the water, disappearing underneath its still surface.

You crouch down, looking intently at the rippling water and anticipating whoever is going to resurface. The sounds of croaking frogs and crickets press in from every side, ringing in your ears so loudly that it’s hard to think straight.

You gasp when Yuta lifts from the water, his human skin gone and completely transformed into something that’s more...amphibian, if that’s any accurate way to describe his appearance. His skin is still scaly and green like you saw that first day, but in the moonlight it seems to glitter and reflect a spectrum of colors like his armor did. There are two fins on the either side of his face, translucent and shining a pale green. They slowly move back and forth as he treads on the water, as if they’re conveying an emotion to match whatever he’s thinking, and you watch them in fascination.

Yuta floats on his back in the water, the long gills on either of his sides catching the moonlight. You watch in fascination as they move with his breaths. Using the pier post to keep yourself stable, you reach out to touch them. They’re slick under your fingers, but not in a slimy or gross way. Your hand drifts to the rest of his skin, across his torso and along his sides, and every portion has a strikingly smooth texture. His alien eyes stare at you silently as you do, glittering big in the moonlight.

“What do you think?” his voice is quieter than you expected, as if he’s afraid of your reaction. He doesn’t break his gaze, though, studying your face carefully.

“You’re...amazing,” you say breathlessly. “Incredible.” 

His lips, which are green like the rest of him, form a small smile, and then he dives underneath the water. He does a few laps as if he means to impress you, his lithe marine form sparkling just below the surface of the water. You keep your hand suspended over the pier as you watch him, your fingers sliding against his body every time he passes by. You smile at his display, a laugh coming out of you at his impromptu performance.

When he’s finished, Yuta climbs up onto the pier with you and kneels in front of you, much like he did that day he saved you from David’s swimming pool. His feet are webbed like his hands. Droplets of water slide off of them onto the wooden boardwalk while others linger on the clear webbing like tiny jewels. Your hand is magnetized to his face, drawing across the scaly skin and tracing over his lips, which are just as smooth as the rest of him.

Before you can think twice about it, you lean forward and capture his lips with yours. Did you expect it to be fishy? Maybe. But it’s not that at all. He still manages to taste distinctly like Yuta, even though you’re not sure what that taste is. It’s a flavor that makes you feel...held. Yuta is surprised for a moment, but he responds to your kiss, one of his webbed hands inching close to your face. He doesn’t touch you at first, a little reluctant and yet wanting to let you lead the pace so he doesn’t scare you off.

You welcome his touch, carefully brushing your fingertips across his hand and bringing it to make contact with your skin. His own skin is still a bit cold from the water’s temperature, but it doesn’t bother you much.

The kiss soon grows more intense, and a mounting desire makes itself known in you. You won’t pretend like you’re 100% confident about all of this, but you don’t want to shun it anymore, either.

Yuta’s hand drifts to your neck, his long nails pressing into your skin ever so slightly. You dare to explore his body more, sliding your hands across his chest and over his side gills, feeling the way they contract under your hands, and farther down still. You haven’t looked down there yet, and you’re nervous over what you’ll find. But you keep going until your fingers meet something slick and hot and throbbing, seeming vaguely like a regular penis, though you quickly realize it’s more of a tentacle.

Yuta shudders and draws away from the kiss, and you feel alarmed, wondering if you’ve gone too far without thinking.

“If we’re going to do this, I should...probably shift back—”

“Don’t,” you blurt out. Yuta looks at you questioningly. “I...you should if it makes you comfortable. But...I don’t mind.” He’s quiet for a few seconds—seconds that feel much longer than they really are. You’re apprehensive of what he’ll say, but you keep your eyes on his face.

“Okay,” he agrees. “If you’ll accept me like this...okay.” 

Neither of you bother with moving to somewhere more comfortable like the lake house or even the sandy shore. Instead, Yuta peels your clothes away right there on the pier, covering every new bit of flesh with his strange and lovely mouth, his head fins ghosting across your collarbones and breasts like moths’ wings.

You tremble and grow wetter under his soft caresses, which are much gentler than you’d initially expect with his sharp black nails. His hands leave streaks of water across your body, which cools your burning hot skin.

Yuta carefully maneuvers your lower body at the same time as he bends his graceful head, bringing your sex close to his mouth and licking deeply into you. Your back presses hard against the pier, the wood scratching your skin as you cry out into the night air.

“Oh God, Yuta!” You soon realize that his tongue is much longer than any human one, and it reaches to a spot deep inside of you that makes you twist around in his grasp, your fingernails scrambling for purchase on the surface below you. He uses his tongue to pleasure that spot continuously, drawing moans and ever more wetness out of you as if he were controlling the waves in the ocean.

You find yourself coming apart on his extraordinarily long tongue, your legs shaking and then going limp with the pleasure flooding through your body. Your breaths come fast and hard. Yuta lifts his head from between your legs and pulls you carefully into his lap so his slick tentacle is pressing against you. It’s not hard like a dick would be, though it is clearly responsive to your body, and you momentarily wonder if it can even go inside you.

“Is this gonna work?” you ask, a tremor in your voice.

“It will work,” Yuta replies, and you’re not sure how, but you decide to trust him on it. 

It does, to your surprise. With your legs crossed tightly over his lower back, Yuta presses into you, wet and warm and very unexpectedly soft. It doesn’t feel like anything you’ve ever experienced before. It’s not a bad sensation, though—far from it. His tentacle is similar to his tongue in how it flexes and throbs inside you, pressing tight against that spot again and making you shiver in his arms.

You both quickly find a rhythm that works, your bodies moving together in an otherworldly combination of two beings, two species, two souls.

Yuta’s long nails scrape gently against your skin as he holds your back, guiding you on his sex and pushing his hips up into you. You sigh into the juncture of his neck and shoulder, feeling the cool scales underneath your lips. You seek a firm grip on his slick skin, bringing your body as close to his as possible.

“Yuta…” You moan his name. His hand slides to the back of your neck so he can bring your face to his again, kissing you deeply. There’s a wet squelching sound as your bodies connect, Yuta’s tentacle slipping in and out of you and pleasurably stroking your walls.

“Y/N…” Yuta whispers into your soft hair, pushing into your spot repeatedly, his thighs tensing under you as his pace increases. You grip his arms as you feel your orgasm swelling up in your abdomen. You tip your head back and Yuta’s mouth goes to your neck and farther down, his heavy breaths warming your skin and making you overheat from the inside out.

You tighten and cum around him, your voice stuttering out of you in broken gasps as he keeps thrusting into you, drawing your climax out. He pulses inside of you, which sends little shockwaves up your spine; you know he’s probably close, too.

When Yuta comes, there’s a lot more of it than you expected. His cum overflows and drips out of you with a consistency like syrup and a transparent color like precum. It makes the inside of your thighs sticky and shiny.

Yuta pulls out, and more of his cum spills out of you, leaking onto his lap and staining the pier underneath you.

“That’s not gonna get me pregnant, is it?” you say quietly, half-jokingly.

“Probably not,” Yuta chuckles.

“Probably!?”

Yuta carefully gathers you in his arms and stands to his feet, walking you off the pier and back towards the lake house. Your clothes are still on the pier, but you’re quickly getting sleepy and aren’t very worried about it; you’ll get them in the morning.

“What happens now?” Yuta murmurs as he walks up the front steps. You already know he’s referring not just to your relationship in this present moment, but to every event that will make up your future. Does he need to continue hiding, or is it really safe? How long will this last?

You close your eyes, resting your head against his chest. “We stay together.”

Yuta’s arms tighten around you as a silent affirmation of your words.

[zeleniafic]

6-13 salty asks for HP.

6 - Has fandom ever made you enjoy a pairing you previously hated?

Not that I can think of tbfh! I am a stubborn bitch lmfao

7 - Is there anything you used to like but can't stand now?

Dumbledore. DUMBLEDORE. I could write an entire essay on his manipulating ass oh my god. Also kinda Seamus Finnigan's whole pyrotechnic shtick, that always made me laugh a lot as a kid who was also prone to such ridiculous accidents, but someone pointed out how shit it was for The Hag That Must Not Be Named to make literally the only prominent Irish character known almost exclusively for causing explosions, within the context of British-Irish political tension at the time HP was written and I'm not in the know enough to convey all of it properly but anyway it just makes me sad now :)))))

8 - Have you received anon hate? What about?

Oh countless things but my FAVORITE was posting Regulus/f!oc content and then stumbling across several responses calling it and similar works homophobic bc apparently it's popular on ao3 that he's gay?? or at least it is within a specific circle??? Idk. Being a teenager on the internet is wild and I have chosen to simply forget that I ever saw that bc I know for a fact that I was also that dumb and self-righteous along the hellish journey of growing up

9 - Most disliked character(s)? Why?

Snape. Being abused does not excuse never dealing with your trauma and perpetuating the cycle with the children in YOUR care, not to mention overtly threatening their pets, and that's not even getting into the way he was okay with letting the woman he was infatuated with's husband and literal baby die as long as she was spared for him to swoop in on :))))) similar to Dumbledore I think he's interesting as a CHARACTER but if I met him in real life I would swing on sight

10 - Most disliked arc? Why?

I... honestly can't think of one??? I truly enjoyed every arc, as far as I can remember. Although if I had to nail one down I'd prob say the whole time period where Ron leaves in DH, but it's not so much that I dislike the way it was written, it's just that I personally hold grudges like my life depends on it and child me was not ready to forgive him when Harry was LMFAO I was mad salty as a kid

11 - Is there an unpopular character you like that the fandom doesn’t? Why?

Once upon a time I would have said Regulus but there's been a renaissance of love for him so I kinda feel like "unpopular" doesn't apply anymore. Although that's in the writing/editing sphere, so maybe still in the greater fandom as a whole?? Idk I don't interact with HP in the wild anymore so I can't say tbfh. Fleur and Ginny both, once upon a time, bc I remember when fandom fuckin hated both of them but thankfully that seems to have gone away!

12 - Is there an unpopular arc that you like that the fandom doesn’t? Why?

The only thing that comes to mind is the way 7th year went, I guess? I think I remember being really disappointed at first as a kid, but then I got swept on that journey and idk. I like the way DH makes the war feel REAL by literally putting everything about Harry's life on hold, right down to not getting to finish school properly.

13 - Unpopular opinion about XXX character?

Oh I've got two fun ones. A) Hermione actually is fucking obnoxious sometimes, and that's okay. Acknowledging it doesn't reduce her character or something. B) Fred and George are actually fucking MEAN sometimes, similar to how the Marauders took things too far at times. I love all of them (**except Wormtail, he can eat shit and die xx) but sometimes people kind of... woobify?? their shitty behavior and I don't like that. You can love them all without excusing or ignoring that they made dumb shitty decisions as teenagers. We literally all do, the difference is that they grew up and matured, unlike certain Potions professo—

[fernsplaysthings]

Pathfinder last night was a whole thing. This adventure and party so good and I adore them. Plus the chemistry between us as a group seems to just get better (these boys are good boys).

Last week ended on Tobi returning from her ‘accidental’ planar travelling to the First World, the Fae Plane, and Torunn the Cleric still stuck wherever he’d ended up.

We’d decided to camp out for the night beside the tree that contained the portal to the First World just in case Torunn found his way back. In a way it worked but we’ll get to that. Most of the evening was spent getting to know a couple of the NPCs a bit better, getting to know the other PCs a bit better and just flavour things such as Tobi climbing the surrounding cliffs and heading off to a creek for a bath.

The fun started during watches. Thelmar the Ranger took first watch with our mysterious NPC, Satis who seemed to have extensive knowledge on other planes and planar travel. Thelmar is also an advocate for killing her ASAP.

Their watrch would have been interesting but Tobi was awake in the area too as she struggles to sleep due to her Changeling situation.

When it came to changing over, Tobi took the next watch with an NPC named Canyon, an Undine girl who has a magic/cursed bracelet that makes her really big and strong.

I love her.

Anyway, Canyon mentioned having some weird recurring dreams and described them as seeing a big hand coming towards her and each finger having a face...

And immediately as she says this the DM follows it up with:

“Tobi, you see a spectral, magical hand moving towards you. Disembodied and beckoning.”

Mhm. Tobi who is afraid of unknown magic, leaps out of her skin and to her feet with daggers drawn, kicking up a fuss and making a lot of noise stumbling over campfires and rocks to try and escape. She wakes literally everyone else as this magical hand follows her as she moves and just dissolves in to a hysterical panic attack.

No one else can see it.

By the time Thelmar and Fever (a wonderful Tiefling Rogue who loves the ladies) manage to grapple her into stopping her from running the hand starts moving back towards the town.

Tobi stays attached to Fever (the smug git) until the hand is far enough out of range that she can be convinced to follow.

(During this mess poor Caeardin tries to help by casting a Shield spell on Tobi so she feels safer and neglects to tell her what he’s done until she totally loses her shit and breaks down crying. By accident because he didn’t know but it happened.)

The magic ‘Helping Hand’ lead back to the tavern where Torunn had managed to ‘Homeward Bound’ himself back to. He’s immediately greeted by Tobi sprinting across the tavern and hugging him stupid and then drinking herself to sleep.

We did learn in that time that it was for definite the Fae World, that Satis was a planar traveller of sorts and...

Stava, our Arcanist, had a moment muttering to himself. As in asking ‘himself’ questions that Thelmar and Tobi managed to hear. Stava wasn’t particularly forthcoming when Thelmar asked about it but...Tobi has plans. She made no indication that she heard.

It only gets more fun from here on in!

The following morning after a good cold shower and some picking herself up, Tobi’s much more herself and heads out into the town square with the party. They’re spread out amongst people so she makes her way over to where she can see none other than Stava’s Ex-wife, her new boyfriend and the researcher they’d been working with taking care of the bird she’d found in an earlier session. Torunn accompanies her over since they’re kind of partners in crime.

A few bits of chatter happen elsewhere regarding Fever trying to chat up the blacksmith’s daughters, Caeardin speaking with his mentor etc etc.

And then Tobi gets to have the most fun.

(I’m having a fucking blast playing this girl.)

Faldio, the previously mentioned ‘new boyfriend’, is trying to get a peek under Satis’ mask (she’s very mysterious) and Tobi catches him. She’s leaning over a cart/supply crate of fruit to she picks up some small berries and pings them at his face. Stava sees and makes his way over:

Stava (surprisingly gently lmfao): “Tobi no, don’t pick fights.” Faldio: “Can’t you keep your new dog on a tighter leash, Stava?”

Tobi’s grinning like some kind of Cheshire cat at this.

Stava: “What? No she’s not...we’re not...” Tobi: “Please, he’s not lucky enough to have me.” Torunn: “You should apologise to the lady...” Faldio: “What lady?” Tobi: “What lady indeed? I’m a Goddess.”

Thelmar then hurries over eager to break up the brewing tension and much to my (and I think Stava’s player’s enjoyment) manages to provoke the best thing:

Ex-Wife (Cordelia): Faldio, stop it... Thelmar: “Cordelia! I’ve been told you like rocks! I like rocks! We should talk some about rocks!” Cordelia (relieved): “Yes! Rocks!” DM: “Uh, Cordelia takes a few steps towards you Thelmar and as she does Faldio follows just a step or so behind...”

Tobi’s eyes light up and the grin gets wider:

Tobi (kind of seductively???): “Oh? Now I see why he brings up leashes~” Stava: “toBI!”

So Tobi now has a hell of a rivalry with her party mate’s ex-wife’s new boyfriend which I am loving and intending to use as much as possible. Things start wrapping into preparation for a mission which resolves with Stava taking check of who’ll be accompanying us. Tobi suggested the mission but:

Tobi: “Are you just...assuming I’m going to be going?” Stava: “I assumed since you suggested it you’d be there?” Tobi: “Well I passed responsibility to you so...” Stava: “Nobody’s making you come Tobi.” Tobi: “...Not right now they’re not.” Stava: “nO.”

(I think. There was some noise straight after I said that pff)

I...adore the dynamic here. If you think for two seconds Tobi’s not gunna have a bit of a thing for most of her male companions you’re wrong! :D She’s definitely going to have a thing for the female companions (sadly no female PCs, only NPCs this time).

I’ve been waiting to play someone like this for so long sob

[carverhawke]

so i just wrote up a short story at 2am to submit to my creative writing class for a workshop/critique thing (i love procrastination) and im scared they’re gonna rip my asshole right open bc theres two hardcore Roasters in that class so could yall maybe....read it to make sure its not TOTAL shit before i submit it to ass-ripping time

every single thing in it is suuuuuper rushed bc we’re not supposed to make this too long bc we all have a bunch of these to read, and if i did everything the way i wanted to this would be 17 pages long and that would just be the most obnoxious dick move. so if u see anything like “wow thats kind of an extreme reaction is there more context for this” or “huh it feels like theres more significance to this but idk what” thats bc shit Is missing lmfao. im gonna edit it a little tomorrow anyway tho just bc. i wrote this at 2am like yikes yall

(tw for like. abuse and mentions of past abuse & murder and shit)

                                                   Blackburn Road

  ��            Her fist hovered in front of the door for several minutes before she worked up the nerve to knock. The doorbell would be easier, but she knew that he would never fix it.

              “You’re being stupid,” she muttered to herself. “Can you stop being stupid?” She had bigger problems than this door, and what was behind it, but right now the door was all of those problems combined.

              So, she knocked. Three quick raps, and then she yanked her hand back and pressed it against her chest. Stupid, that’s really stupid. It’s just a door, and you knocked now. That’s what you’re supposed to do with doors.

              She sighed heavily and squeezed her brown eyes shut, shaking her head at herself. She crossed and uncrossed her arms, and every time she stopped one foot from tapping, the other started. She was almost about to knock again, when the door flew open in one sharp, fast motion that almost made her flinch.

              “Addy,” Ben said, smiling, but it didn’t reach his eyes. They were empty, and dark. Blue like a storm, not like the sky. His hair was naturally blond, but next to his eyes, it seemed too bright. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

              “I told you not to call me that.”

              For a split second, his grin faded to a familiar sneer, but he plastered it back on soon enough. “Addison. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

              “You know what I’m here to talk about. I said I’d be coming by.”

              He groaned, and slumped against the doorframe. “Right. As if I didn’t hear enough about it from you before. I guess you want to come in?”

              Don’t hit him now, Addison. Don’t hit him. He can and will arrest you on the spot. Don’t do it.

              “It’s the last thing I want to do, but I’m not having this conversation on your porch.”

              He moved aside, and swept an arm out theatrically. He was holding a beer bottle, and she almost brought her arms up to cover her face when he swung his arm back around.

              She hadn’t been back in this house since the divorce. Every time she talked to Ben, it was at the station where he worked or somewhere else with a lot of people. She didn’t want to be alone with him in here ever again, told herself she wouldn’t, but. . .

              Desperate times, she told herself. That’s a thing people say.

              “Well, Addy?”

              She looked around almost idly, refusing to meet his icy gaze. The house didn’t look too different, really. She didn’t know what she’d expected. No pictures up anymore, though. And the key rack–

              “Find your car yet?” she asked, nodding in its direction. It was empty. He snorted.

              “Like I said last time you mentioned this. I kind of have more urgent missing things to worry about. So do you, I’d think.”

              “Yeah.” She still didn’t look at him. His lies crawled across her skin. “I’m making small talk. It’s a thing people do.”

              “Well, not us. What do you want?”

              She pushed black hair behind her ear, and finally met his eyes. “I want to know if you’ve seen him. Or heard from him. Or anything.”

              “Addy, you know I haven’t.”

              “Well, if he ran away like you’re claiming he did, why didn’t he let at least one of us know he’s alright? Especially with all the posters, and the news, and this rumor that there’s some serial killer running around?”

              “You know how he gets. Temperamental, and shit. He’ll turn up. Half of missing kids are runaways anyway, and they do.”

              Somehow, she doubted that. “And the other half?”

              “You still claim to be a smart woman, don’t you? You tell me.”

              “You know what? I don’t know why I came here. I don’t know how anyone can talk to you.

              “Usually, they start by not being a frigid bitch, but–”

              She put her hands against his chest, one against his ribs and one against his shirt pocket, and pushed him hard. He stumbled, got that familiar burn in his eyes, it almost made them glow, and slapped her in the cheek. She gasped sharply, but didn’t lose her balance. Shoved her hands in her pockets.

              “You do that to every frigid bitch, too?”

              “You know that’s the Addy special, sweetheart.”

              “Fuck you.” She shoved him again, lighter this time, before he could make some smart remark. “Whatever. You’re a liar, anyway. You think I haven’t seen that smirk a million goddamn times?”

              “What?” he almost sounded like he was laughing. He smirked, it was like steel, it was so cold. “You think I did it? To my own son? Come on. I’m a stand-up guy. No record, or family troubles, or anything. Why would I go and do a thing like that?”

              She knew she’d hit him again if she stuck around, really hit him, and get arrested that time, so she didn’t stick around. She got in her car, slammed the door, and drove off at an annoyingly reasonable speed so he couldn’t bust her on that curb.

              She cruised down Death Road. That’s what everyone called it, but for a moment it didn’t feel like Death Road. It didn’t even feel like its real name, or the place where her son had disappeared. It felt like a long, long road that would never end, surrounded and stifled by the waving green trees. She began to laugh.

              As if to make sure she had really done it, she pulled the badge out of her pocket and ran her thumb over the bumps and indents, over his name carved into the metal, Benjamin Cooke, fading rays of light bouncing off the gold. Plucked it right from his shirt pocket. Dumb angry bastard didn’t even notice. She could use this to get what she needed. She could finally prove that it was him, him who did this to her son, him all along. She laughed again, and pressed her foot against the gas and the cool metal to the throbbing skin under her eye, right against the criss-cross scar on her left cheek. Tears sprung into her eyes, and she couldn’t quite tell why.

              This was worth all the bruises, she thought giddily to herself. Worth the bruises.

---

              Leaned back in her chair, arms crossed, one leg over the other, Addison steadily kicked the leg of the table. The whole thing shook with each impact, more and more as the endless time ticked on. Her reflection glowered back at her, dark hair and somehow darker eyes as she glared into the two-way mirror. She swore she could feel someone withering behind it, but maybe that was wishful thinking. She hoped she was annoying them. God, she hoped.

              She had only been in a room like this once, after that accident on Death Road. Or Blackburn, rather. The same accident gave it both those names, anyway. She remembered they called her Addy, only Addy. Every single sentence was Addy. Overused it until it didn’t mean anything anymore. Addy Addy Addy Addy. She had felt so utterly alone. She was utterly alone.

              She slammed her foot against the table leg, sending the whole thing shifted back. She was tired of this. She had no time.

              “You can’t keep me in here forever, assholes! Either come and arrest me, or let me go, because I–”

              The door swept open, and in a quick motion a man slid into the room before carefully closing it behind him. She frowned when he turned to face her, and he turned his gaze away.

              “Charlie. Well, I know I’m in good hands now.”

              His jaw worked slowly, and he walked over to move the table back. He sat on the end of it, body twisted a little to face her, but his head was turned away. She could barely see his full profile. They sat like that, in a pained kind of silence, for a few more moments.

              “Well, then? Officer?” He sighed heavily at this, and shook his head just a little.

              “We’re not going to arrest you, Addison,” he finally spit out, voice monotone and stilted. This was strange for him, but maybe not given the circumstances. “Given…given everything that’s going on with you right now, and our history with–with you–” he glanced nervously at the two-way mirror– “we’re going to give you a free pass for this. You can walk out of here once we’re done talking.”

              “So, what? You’re going to tell me what a big bad crime this was and how I shouldn’t have done it? No shit, man. I’m aware of that.”

              “No, but you impersonated an officer to steal surveillance tapes from a gas station! It was a big bad crime, and you shouldn’t have done it. Since you brought it up.”

              “A bigger, badder crime than kidnapping? Murder? Because my son is still missing, nothing Ben’s saying is adding up, and I seem to be the only one bringing any of that up!”

              “Seriously!”

              “He lied about his car! I saw in the tapes–”

              “Come on, Addy! This needs to stop, with you and him. You’ve always–”

              “Don’t go there,” she snapped. “I’m serious. Don’t.”

              He looked again at the mirror, unblinking for several long seconds. In his reflection, she saw his face twisted into something like regret, or sadness, and she watched him slowly smooth it back out. Finally, he turned his head back, but still refused to look at her.

              “I’m sorry,” he said, and the robotic professionalism in his voice finally cracked. “We just can’t– nevermind. I’m not here to lecture you. I actually. . .I was going to talk about your son.”

              She looked hard into the one eye he was allowing her to see. Dreamy brown and downcast, just a touch lighter than his curly hair, and both very stark against his pale skin. She and him had been good friends, once, and for a good long while. But that was before she realized he valued something else over her, crying as she clung to the doorframe with bruised, shaking fingers with a broken nose and blood pouring out of her split lips. She begged him to just take her to the car, take me to the goddamn car, but when Ben said no he just turned and walked away. That wasn’t the last time, but never looked right at her since then.

              “Look at me,” she said coolly. He closed his eyes and she leaned forward. “You’re a coward. Look at me, and say what you have to say.”

              “Addy, you know that I. . .” but he trailed off, and slowly, painfully turned to face her. Still, he didn’t look her in the eye. “No one’s supposed to know about this but us. But, with everything. . .and since you’re here, we decided, well, we decided to make an exception with you.”

              Something was seizing her throat. There was a big, empty pit in her stomach that seemed to be sucking everything down. She was shivering, a tremble that seemed to begin at her very core. She knew what was coming. She knew what was coming. But maybe if. . .

              “We caught a guy. It’s. . .he confessed to a lot of stuff. We thought that maybe, there was a serial killer starting out around here, but he even confessed to more than what we thought he did. Including. . .I’m so sorry, Addy. Including Casey.”

              They called it Death Road. It’s taking everything from you, Addison. It’s taking you.

              She lowered her head down on to the table.

              Endless time ticked on.

---

She and Charlie were done talking. She walked out. For the first time in a while, he walked with her. He didn’t quite have his hand on her back, but she felt it hovering there. It was really the only thing she could feel. She couldn’t feel her own breathing, but she heard it, labored and heaving. She couldn’t feel her own heartbeat, but she heard it with the ringing in her ears. Slow and hollow, like a hole had been seared through it, burning what little was left to a dark crisp.

She was in his car, and he was driving him home.

“Don’t take Blackburn,” she said to him quietly. Some days, she wished her last name was still Cooke. Some days, she didn’t know what was worse. “Don’t take Blackburn Road.”

“Okay.”

It was going to kill her if she took it. The same way it killed her mother, her brothers and sisters, the car twisted around a jagged tree like a cursed ring. Addy crawled out through the broken glass and her blood pooled in the cracks on the road, shiny and slick with rain. That’s why they called it Blackburn Road. The same way it killed her son, reaching up through the cracks and sucking him down with the rest of them. Blackburn Road. It was coming for all of them. She didn’t care if she died, but the thought of dying there too, again at the mercy of its gaping maw, was so terrifying she couldn’t breathe.

“What was his name?” she gasped out, focusing on the road signs, the signs that said anything else, but she couldn’t read right now. Her breath was trembling, and uneven. “The man who. . .”

“James Eden.”

“That’s a bitch name,” she whispered, and closed her eyes. “Fucking Eden.”

“Yeah.”

              “Did he say how?”

              “Addy. . .”

              “I want to know if he suffered.”

              Charlie only paused for a second, but that second of silence was the worst thing she had ever heard. She wanted to scream, but something was shackling her breath.

              “I really can’t tell you that stuff now,” he muttered.

              “What did he say?”

              “Come on, Addy.”

              “Don’t–”

              “I just. . .” Charlie sighed. “Not much I can tell you, okay? We just showed him a picture of Casey, to see if he had any connection, and he confessed. Like that. We can maybe. . .well, he hasn’t given us much on anything, when it comes to. . .finding stuff. But we hope–”

              “You showed him?”

              “Huh?”

              “You showed him a picture first? And told him Case’s name?”

              “Uh, yeah. Not me personally. Jane did. You know, Detective Callahan.”

              “I know.” Detective Callahan came by her house a lot. Detective Callahan walked away, too. “So he didn’t really. . .he just said. . .”

              “Addison.”

              “I’m just saying, did he really do it? You needed to show him before–”

              “Jesus Christ! Look, I know we fucked up with you and Ben, alright? Constantly! I know Ben is not a fucking stand-up guy! In the least! But if you start up on this–”

              “You didn’t see the tapes, Charlie. They showed me the tapes. Ben’s car wasn’t stolen from that parking lot. It was never there.”

              “Ben was there.”

              “He walked in from the woods.”

              “Addy–”

              “He walked in from the woods, and he went inside, and he waited there for you to pick him up. Charlie. Please.”

              “Maybe he parked somewhere else.”

              “But he said it was stolen from–”

              “Maybe he was simplifying it, Addison! I mean, Christ! All you have is a bunch of goddamn conspiracy theories here!”

              “I don’t! You don’t know him like me. You never have.”

              “Addy, even if it’s true, you got those illegally. We can’t use them, can’t get them without probable cause, which, there is none, and we can’t act based on your bad feeling alone!”

              She laughed. She couldn’t feel it in her chest or throat, but it bubbled out of her mouth like an overflowing pot. “Let me out here.”

              “What?”

              “I’ll walk.”

              “Addy, come on–”

              “I don’t know why I thought you would ever help me. Act on my bad feeling?” she laughed. “You didn’t even act on evidence. How fucking stupid was I, right?”

              “It’s not like that. You just. . .you just lost. . .look, you’re not in a good place, okay? I’m trying to help, I just–”

              “I know what you just. Let me out of the goddamn car, or I swear to god I’ll climb out this window.”

              “Jesus–”

              He let her out, of course. Charlie was good at following orders. That was all he was good at. Her walk home was long, and it was dark when she made it back, and she knew, she knew, she knew–

---

              She stood in front of the door. She was working up the nerve to knock, breathing deep and steady with her eyes closed, hands hanging loose by her sides. But she wasn’t scared anymore. She didn’t feel anything, really, except for the steady, slow beat of her heart. It was strange, how it beat so well with a hole through the middle.

              We can’t help you, Addison. That was all she could think of. The only thing running through her head. It was almost serene. We can’t help. They believed James Eden killed her son the same way they believed Benjamin Cooke never laid a hand on her. Sorry, but we’re not. Can’t help. Well for the last fucking time, she was going to help herself. Good riddance.

              She brought her fist do the door, slowly, like a dream, and knocked three times. Then, she moved her hand behind her back. It would be bad if Ben saw the knife before he let her inside. Obviously, it would be bad.

              They said James Eden would get death for what he did. The door swung open in a harsh, quick motion.

              “Addy,” he said, and he sounded like a snake. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

              She felt herself smile. An eye for an eye.